


Stranger Things

by Netya



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Armin is a Smith, Dad!Erwin, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, I love that I can't use the 'father' tag, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Raccoon!Levi, Raccoon/Human Hybrids, Were-Creatures, oceanic metaphors abound, see end notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 08:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netya/pseuds/Netya
Summary: Erwin finds a raccoon on his porch.





	Stranger Things

There is a raccoon on his porch.  


Erwin blinks, making a double-take as he walks back past his front door, tray of tea, snack and books in his hand freshly prepared for a relaxing morning of retirement.  


Definitely a raccoon.  


This raccoon doesn’t _look_ like a raccoon, from Erwin ’s admittedly lacking experience. Yes, it resembles the scavenger he’s vaguely familiar with through nature documentaries and the occasional backyard sighting; but its posture is much more like a cat’s, its fluffy, ringed tail curled protectively around it’s body where it sits smack in the center of the very nice porch bench he’d installed for his fortieth birthday.  


Raccoons didn’t typically stray near houses, to Erwin ’s knowledge. They slept in dens, or gutters; they scavenged by night and certainly didn’t lie still in plain, living daylight.  


Nevertheless - there it is, still, a raccoon swaying on his bench.  


So, Erwin does what any sane person would do: he sits on his bench, the structure tilting to one side with his weight, and enjoys his tea, ignoring the animal completely.  


\--  


It’s maybe an hour before his tea grows cold, and he stands to stretch, glancing at the animal as he heads back inside. It hasn’t moved in the time Erwin ’s been there, small grey body barely ruffled by the breeze where it still lies resolutely curled.  


He pulls out his cell while he walks to the kitchen, flipping the device open and clicking to speed dial as he waits for his water to boil.  


The dial tone crackles and gives way to frantic yelling, loud orders shouted down the other end of the line with obvious excitement. “Hello!!!” the voice yells in his ear, “Erwin! Hold on a second, I’m trying to –! Nana! It’s Erwin!”  


Erwin pours his tea with a bemused smile as the cell changes hands, watching the steam’s delicate patterns as it floats over the kettle. Cyan isn’t his color, but it (along with the rest of his dishware) was a gift from his son’s overzealous boyfriend; his kitchen is full of Jamaica-themed brights, from the saturated counters to the coral toaster.  


“Hello, Erwin,” Nanaba sighs, exhaling slowly and sounding entirely put upon.  


“Hello, Nana,” he greets, dunking his teabag methodically and wincing when liquid splashes onto his hand. “Is this a bad time?”  


“No,” she says quickly, and he chuckles quietly, moving his mug from counter to tabletop. “What can I do for you?”  


“There’s a raccoon on my porch,” he says simply, selecting a biscotti and extracting it from the crinkled bag on the table to place carefully on his plate. “I don’t think it’s rabid, but it could be injured.” He glances out the window. “It’s in my spot.”  


Nanaba laughs. He smiles at the sound – he can envision her expression perfectly, head thrown back and the shy dimple that peeks out from her left cheek. “Well,” she teases, voice colored with amusement. “We can’t have that – although I thought you were planning to get off your fat ass, for once?”  


He lifts his eyebrows, balancing the phone on his shoulder while he carries the ceramic ensemble into the hallway. “Yes, and if it is rabid, I’m sure it will be quite effective. Now – “he sets the mug down on the hallway mantle, careful not to knock over the picture of Armin in his uniform. “What should I do about it?”  


“Don’t touch it,” she says immediately, as if sensing his first response. “I mean – don’t try and pet it, it’s not a cat.”  


Her voice is wry; Erwin’s certain she’s given this advice before, probably to Hanji. Of course, it was probably intended for use with feral cats instead of ‘furry garbage vultures’, as Miche liked to call them, but it's not like he can control that.  


“If you think it needs treatment, I trust you to take care of it,” she continues, “just be smart. Act as non-threatening as possible – you can try drawing it out with treats, if you want. Just nothing sticky. That about cover it?”  


“Yes,” he smiles his thanks, forgetting that she can’t see it.  


“Hey, Erwin,” she says, voice softening just a touch, the slow hint of pity he’s become all too familiar with seeping into her tone. “Are you…”  


“Thank you, Nana,” he cuts her off, smile faded and back stiff. “It was good talking to you. Tell Hanji I say hi.” He hangs up, placing the phone in the pocket of his khakis, and walks back out to the porch.  


\--  


Erwin ’s finished his tea and is starting on his third biscotti when the raccoon finally pokes its nose out, one beady eye cracking open to glare at the crumbs falling freely onto the surface of the bench. Erwin pauses, glancing down, then slowly pushes the rest of the biscuit into his mouth, deliberately biting down too soon so the last third of the treat clatters onto the bench.  


The raccoon’s eye opens a little wider. If Erwin was to classify the emotion on what little he can see of its face, he’d put it somewhere between ‘suspicion’ and ‘deep disgust’.  


There is a gash on one of the raccoon’s legs. Erwin raises his eyebrow and nudges the piece forward with the tip of his finger.  


The raccoon flicks its tail straight up, silver-white fur flashing in the air; and, in the least raccoon-like of ways, snatches the biscotti with one small, black paw, shifting into a prim, otter-like position to eat it, the mess of crumbs catching almost pointedly on its fur.  


\--  


The next two hours pass slowly. Erwin and the raccoon have come to a sort of understanding; Erwin will nibble a cookie to the base, and then he will place the fragment on the bench.  


The raccoon – who Erwin has decided to call ‘Levi’ – will stretch out its paw and snatch the piece from the bench, turn onto its back, and devour the biscuit like it has never eaten a day in its life.  


“Is there anything else you like?”  


Levi twists its head to stare. It blinks.  


Erwin heads back inside and appraises the state of his kitchen. There is a ceramic bowl of fruit on the table, full to the brim with pears and apples in a futile attempt to compliment the ghastly shade of citrine; he selects one of each, chopping them swiftly, then pulls a cheese plate from the fridge.  


He walks out into the dusk half expecting the strange little thing to be gone – surely, a raccoon has better things to do than lie around his porch during its most active hours (he had researched a little while inside; they are indeed nocturnal), and he is fully prepared to self-chastise and crawl into bed.  


But Levi’s there, sprawled out over the wood with a look of intense focus, sharp eyes turned to watch the pink clouds as they spill over the horizon line.  


“California sunsets are beautiful, aren’t they?”  


The creature startles into a sitting position, turning its head to track Erwin’s movements as he crosses to the opposite wall. “It’s part of why I moved here – that, and my son loved the ocean.”  


Erwin smiles, thinking of the first time he’d taken Armin to the beach – the two of them splashing in the shallows, and Armin’s excited shrieking when they’d dug up a nest of squirming, grey crabs.  


They’d spent hours crouched in the sand, pants rolled up to their knees, digging endless holes under the swash line and watching the little crustaceans burrow and roll: always frantic, but never distressed.  


Armin had scooped one up, special because of the orange tint under its shell, and asked if they could put it in a jar to bring home.  


He’d cried when they found it dead the next morning, a small sack of eggs hooked tightly against its small body.  


“Here,” Erwin gestures, and lays the fruit down on the gazebo tile, a whole step down and a couple feet from where the raccoon currently rests. “It’s what I have, but it’s better than garbage,” he adds lightly, scratching the side of his forehead.  


Levi glares.  


“Armin went to South America,” he says, aimlessly. “On exchange. He studied marine biology, but somehow his friends,” he frowns, “convinced him to go abroad with them … fascinating country, but for marine pursuits…” he trails off. Armin had been sympathetic when he left, blue eyes wide and knowing. “I’ll be back next year - We’ll skype every night, I promise!” He’d laughed, taken the heavy suitcase from Erwin ’s hands, and trotted down the driveway to meet his friends.  


Erwin shakes himself from the memories, glancing back down to see that Levi’s turned its attentions to its fur instead of the proffered fruit, gnawing at its leg. It’s flicking its tongue like a cat, but it’s clearly not flexible enough to clean the entirety of the gash.  


“Here.”  


Ten minutes later Erwin is carrying an incredibly skeptical raccoon inside on a throw pillow, wrapping its hind leg in a bandage, and carefully laying it down on his bed to rest.  


\--  


There is a man in Erwin’s bed.  


He’s naked, a strip of gauze wrapped tightly around his left ankle; and his skin is covered with positively striking rings of ink, spirals of black climbing from the insides of his thighs to his muscular forearms.  


He also has a tail.  


Erwin blinks, pausing for only a moment before approaching, sitting, and holding out a plate of lemon biscuits.  


The man watches him, incredulous; upon realizing Erwin is not, in fact, going to comment, reaches out with narrowed eyes and plucks one with a paw-like hand.  


“If you get crumbs on these sheets,” the man begins, not bothering to look at Erwin while he eats, “I’ll claw your balls off in your sleep.”  


\--  


Erwin thinks he takes to housing a were-raccoon remarkably well.  


Levi – who only snorted and rolled his eyes when Erwin suggested the name – becomes a raccoon at noon and a man at midnight, and neglected to give any more specifics, instead opting to rattle around Erwin’s house like it belonged to him.  


Erwin thinks privately that he resembles a raccoon far more in human form, behaviorally, at least. He nibbles his food between his fingers, curls up when he reads, and is often seized by a seemingly insuppressible urge to search though every one of Erwin’s cupboards.  


That’s how, around two in the morning several days later, Erwin walks into the en-suite bathroom to find Levi with the drawers open and the contents expunged, frowning at the several bright orange bottles clutched tightly in his hand.  


“Levi,” Erwin says gently, “give those to me, please.”  


“I don’t understand,” Levi says, brows furrowing, and holds the pills out of Erwin’s reach. “The fuck do you need this many for, you can’t take these recreationally – “ he hisses as Erwin seizes his wrist, eyes flashing neon as he’s quickly and firmly disarmed.  


“Ask me if you need medicine, please,” Erwin says simply, tucking the bottles into his pocket. He leaves Levi growling, his gaze boring holes into the back of Erwin’s head.  


\--  


Erwin comes downstairs that morning to find Levi stock-still in the hallway, a mug of sleepytime tea lax in his hands.  


“Levi, good morning.” He stiffens when he sees exactly where Levi stands, shrewd, grey gaze locked on the urn on the mantlepiece.  


Levi’s tail flicks.  


“I’m sorry about your son,” he says suddenly, and lifts the cup to his lips, downing his tea in seconds and leaving to sit in the living room.  


“Thank you,” Erwin says quietly, following him slowly. Levi isn’t looking at him – pointedly, Erwin thinks – and sits on the opposite side of the couch.  


“It was an accident,” Erwin explains, calmly, like he’s said many times before.  


“He fell from the bow, on their first expedition.” There was a storm. “It was unexpected.” The urn is empty. “His body was never recovered.”  


Levi’s gaze is fixed on the ceiling, tracing the teal-painted arches up the walls, a wash of bronze sea-stars spanning the plaster.  


“I’m sorry,” he says again, “I’m sorry, Erwin.”  


Erwin shrugs. He’s been mourning for almost three months now. “His – boyfriend,” Eren’s amber eyes were bright with tears when Erwin met him at the docks, tan skin cast gold by the setting sun. “Thought he might have swum out, but there was no chance.” Armin was a diver; he was trained for this, he could have survived, it was feasible.  


There was no hope, they’d said, off that coast in the South Pacific. No hope at all he’d be found.  


Levi nods and drops his empty mug on the table, rising and twitching his tail to one side. It brushes over Erwin’s knees when he walks by, comforting, in its own animal way.  


\--  


Levi starts spending nights with him.  


He doesn’t sleep, not literally; he’s too restless after twelve hours in an animal body, and is active those hours by nature – but he stays in bed, working his way through Erwin’s book collection, brows furrowed and lips moving as he reads silently throughout the night.  


Whenever Erwin jolts awake, there are fingers combing through his sweat-soaked hair, and a whispered foreign lullaby soothes him back to sleep.  


The nightmares don’t stop completely, but they subside.  


\--  


It is midnight on the four-month anniversary of Armin’s disappearance, and Erwin is running through his nightly routine, debating the merits of shaving before bed as he scratches the dense collection of stubble that coats his cheeks and chin.  


“Want some help?” Levi is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed – his posture tries to hide it, but the tip of his tail twitches in agitation, and Erwin is suddenly aware of the sharpness of the blade in his hand, glinting off the fluorescent bathroom lights.  


“Be my guest.” He tilts the razor over to Levi, moving to sit on the toilet as Levi snatches the shaving cream off the sink. “It – “  


“I know how it opens,” Levi snaps, twisting the cap and promptly spraying hunter-green foam directly in his face.  


There is silence for a moment as Erwin’s eyes widen, taking in the shocked, outraged raccoon-man and his thrashing tail – and then he laughs like he hasn’t in months, the sound echoing bright and loud off the tile walls.  


It takes a moment, but soon Levi’s laughing with him, scoffing indignantly but grinning all the same as he scrubs his face furiously.  


Levi’s eyes are yellow in the dark, a disconcerting glow that gave Erwin a fright the first time they loomed at him in the kitchen while he fixed a midnight snack. They’re grey in the daylight, startlingly so; so pale it’s a wonder Levi can see at all.  


He’s mesmerized. He can’t tear his gaze away, not when they’re so strikingly beautiful. _Inhuman_.  


He’s cupping Levi’s cheek in one hand when his cell goes off on the vanity.  


The ringtone is a violent metal tune that quite literally screams them out of the moment, and Levi turns his head with a growl, clearly intending to smack it away – but Erwin beats him to it, flipping it open with a suddenly pounding heart.  


Levi grumbles, irritated by the loss of contact, but stares quizzically when Erwin’s free hand grips his shoulder, knuckles starkly white.  


“ _Erwin_!” It’s Eren on the line, and Erwin _knew this_ when he answered, because Armin personalized all his ringtones as a prank –  


Eren is sobbing, heaving into the speaker, and Erwin’s gripping the phone like a lifeline, running down, down the stairs, through the hallway, banging through the front door haphazardly with startled raccoon-man in tow.  


“Erwin,” the boy can barely breathe through his hysterics, voice muddled by tears and intermittent gasps for air.  


“They found – “

**Author's Note:**

> \-- Spoiler --  
> Character death is temporary. I know it's a huge trigger for me usually, so if anyone was worried, you need not be.  
> This is entirely un-beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own. Comments and critique are always appreciated! 
> 
> .... if there's enough interest, there will be a porny sequel. Raccoon!Levi needs more bodily appreciation than he gets in this...


End file.
